Whatever You Want

Why must the internet

by a vast space of cyber lies?

Oceans of web sites

swirling with seductions,

swimming in deceptive mermaids

and counterfeit sirens.

 

Who offer voyages to paradise,

but they only end sunken dream ships.

Pity that truth seldom flows

through its many currents

as we sit in our harbor keyboards

trying to book passage

to somewhere truly exotic,

having spice we can’t find.

 

Email sails set for islands

hoping to find love’s shore,

ripped and tattered heart canvas

keeps drifting on the inbox stream,

thinking the next horizon

will bring some real enchantment.

 

There are more sharks and barracuda

among the seas of correspondence,

somewhere people decided

piracy of trust was acceptable

when a mariner on net waves.

 

How the tides of toxic morals

eventually reach inside,

until one is treading water

just to keep from drowning

in the pollution.

Thought for the week: "Why can't we have a Up season to go with Fall?"

 

It’s All Good

There is a subtle elegance

in having brain

able to find caves in parking lots,

can till time by shoe size

and read a book from last page first.

 

I keep my thoughts in a tube of pastry,

worry if dryer lint hides mind cooties,

go on trips every day

where truth is a kitten

who masquerades as Attila the Hun.

 

None of this is other than creativity

from a mine stuck in the muse’s underwear,

it all is façade of dementia

to hide my quirky anal retentive, passive/aggressive,

compulsive driven neurosis,

having no patience,

turns my computer desk into a temple

with crumbs from snacks,

cyber passion is a religion,

cleanliness on the list never looked at.

 

My mind can get stuck on replay,

repeating the same thought till it strangles,

then find a candle to shine a light

somewhere you’ve never seen.

 

Ready to take out the trash before needed

so I can save time to do something trivial,

elevate mundane and routine to some sacred ritual,

organize my life so it never makes any sense,

stroll in the chaos that I think is logical

pick out the one idiosyncrasy of my subconscious,

performing it until you want to scream.

 

Yet, in this clamor whirlwind beats a heart with love,

easily share with loyalty and my own brand of humor

making curiosity and fascination signs before my face.

 

It will make the time encountered

an oddity that can become addictive

if for no other reason than wondering

can one person really be such a walking contradiction?

 

Icicle Wings

I thought it was spring returned

until I looked into her eyes,

a gaze so frozen and indifferent

feeling the words she spoke

dipped the temperate below freezing.

 

How quickly the season of our hearts changed

summer past while I thought it as still July

for our love.

 

But fall came in excuses and the loss

of passion’s leafs upon my dream trees.

 

The air before her lips

only breathed biting phrases,

sentences had icicle wings

dancing over my soul,

skewering my hopes with chilling daggers.

 

Each time we spent time together

was a stroll across a glacier,

her touch no more caring or heated

than a snowman’s.

 

Once the air we shared

always brought such warmth inside,

it was a climate full of a radiant joy

that made my insides glow.

 

Today I bear the bitter breeze

from walking alone

upon a tundra in regrets

far away from that cottage of intimacy

where the air condition was left  constantly on high.

 

Living with the days

frosted and frigid,

accepting it is better to face the cold

than dwell in an ice box

called a home.

 

The Rules

I thought I had seen her heart

understood every trace and beat,

grasp the caresses for their intent,

knew the depths and notes of our romance song.

 

But though I was lifted on a cloud,

it turned into a fog,

each day was filled with a wind

blowing some change from her mind,

felt it was a game

where I never knew the rules.

 

Sins informed without benefit of commandments,

transgressions mentioned

without seeing a single no trespassing sign.

 

Simple as I presumed our path should be,

became a maze of excuses and broken promises,

got so lost and not having a single clue

what was the destination we were supposed to reach.

 

It was like being abandoned on a desert island

while given a map to a place that didn’t exist,

left with instructions for building an ark,

yet not provided a tool nor materials.

 

Love I always viewed with enraptured eyes

got so blurry from chasing verbal mirages

getting dizzy from trying to remember

all the “thou shalt’s” that changed constantly.

 

When at last I was left alone

while she waved goodbye to race towards

somewhere she didn’t say,

inside the haze went away

though the mystery of the journey to nowhere

lingered in my head.

 

Baubles

Baubles dangle before the brain,

spheres of sunset’s inspiring pearls,

orbs floating reflection’s memories,

nostalgia’s necklace draping the sky

like bubbles bouncing in the breeze.

 

The heart drinks the ambience champagne

slowly sipping its steady soothing serenity.

Holding the moment is tranquility’s glass,

pierced by the sense

that twilight has its own eyes,

as if a specter is in the scenery

silently casting a spell

from another time.

 

On the beach within the spirit

sands of time drift with their tales,

feet touch the grains and hope to leave a mark,

to capture the hour as more than a twilight.

 

And bedeck life in the jewelry of hope,

those gems that float in the mind

as gentle and caressing as a warm wind,

until the beach before the soul

is a splendor reaching from within,

precious and intense,

a siren calling forth

that takes one to places

deeply potent in the purest calm.

 

Spectrums

The world rode a carousel of prism flashes,

pinwheels of poignant piercingly profound points,

spiraling out of control in the head,

ascending the lucid layers of light,

and dancing in the kaleidoscope rainbows

that brought the perceptions of deeper veils

shrouding the life in mysteries.

 

It was the rambling that swirled inward

as a tail spin of induced enlightenment

while sitting in that college dorm room of 1969.

Headphone passage

to the hallucinogenic stereophonic realm

sunk the conscious deeper into its melodies,

Moody Blues serenades guiding along the journey

where truth was always hidden

behind a mask of meanings,

waiting to be discarded by a few drags on a joint.

 

How slowly you succumb

to those tunes that floated through the mind,

starting in the left ear

then feeling as if they ran through the brain

before hearing them in the right one.

 

Peace lingered in the mental mist

of images conjured by the inhaled smoke,

vibrant specters drifted by

carrying their messages

that made you believe

wisdom’s wand was named Marijuana.

 

The sense of euphoria lasted until class began

shuffling off to that mentor’s chamber

pretending it all would make sense,

but if not the next toke would restore

another flight into an altered reality.

 

Windswept

Aloft upon a single fluttering vision,

a moth heart in dreamy gossamer form

tries to escape on a wisp in utopian inspiration

from the pressed lips in pressurized presumption.

 

Feeling trapped upon a cerebral cerulean sky

painted by the brush strokes of social artistry,

where life’s canvas is crafted by definitions

instead of the windswept feel in creativity.

 

Tinker Bell thoughts thread a timbre of teasing tones,

rippling through the tendons in tenuous touches,

stretching the mind’s eye towards the stars

while wishing their mystery would engrain

some stardust radiation upon reality.

 

Chasing euphoria’s zephyr breeze

across the concrete landscape,

hoping it will somehow truly endow with wings

to soar before the approaching asphalt paths.

 

Impossible is the wall seen within the head,

building bricks made of “can’t,”

struggling to deny its presence

by thinking of flights beyond limitations,

riding them to realms

rich in the textures of serene hues

where one doesn’t have to merely dream

to feel more than an airy essence

upon time’s sprawling script.

 

Exhaling what has burdened

while trying to focus

so the frail creature who dwells inside

might become the flesh without fear,

willing to stop shrinking into the shadows

at last allowing oneself

a chance to truly travel

where abilities can go

when not withered by excuses.

 

 

Take Me Away

I was watching this commercial the other day and it had this lady talking about some product taking her away.  Only she sure didn’t go far.

 

Well not from what I noticed.  She ended up in some bath tub full of bubble bath.  Clean is good, but not my idea of traveling.

 

I really wasn’t too clear on how this was supposed to impress me.  I mean when I’m ready to be taken away I want some place cool.

 

And that ain’t the bathtub.  I want a place that is really fun.  Yeah a place I can enjoy myself and have a good time.

 

One thing I know is I sure don’t want it to be like some place they took my pal.  Oh it is restful there. 

 

But I’m not sure I want to join him.  Those straight jackets sure aren’t my idea of a good time.

 

I suppose you know the padded walls are nice.  They do like make it easier to keep from hitting your head.

 

And it is nice they give him plenty to eat.  Not sure I think of pills being that tasty, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

 

Oh well I guess I’m grateful that I didn’t get invited to join him.  Really not my idea of being taken away.

 

So at least for now I will stick with more fun options.  Like with the bus.  As long as I have exact change.

 

Yeah they might as well not call it taking me away when I have to pay for it. That ain’t the same thing.

 

And you can be sure that to me if you do want to take me somewhere I expect you to provide the transportation.   Seems only fair.

 

Well that is me.  And I will stick with choice when it comes to this option.  I don’t want to get suckered in by false promises.

 

Like those dang places that tell you something is free when it ain’t.  Yeah those really suck.

 

Well I will be sure I do what I can to not let this bother too much.  I mean really it sucks when it ain’t fun.

 

So take me away only be sure  you got a smile.

 

 

Thought for the week:

233. "How come Spring is the only season that is a car part?"

An Image Of Perfection

Cyber space fancy flies its flawless facades

waving those masks and banners of fabrication,

creating worlds and personalities

with no cracks nor crevices,

matchless in their illusions

and when expressed by a pure artist

they become masterpieces of seduction.

 

But it is a net mirage of mental myths,

how quickly it evaporates

when exposed to reality’s light.

 

Still we love the plain of web enchantment

holding those portraits

that real life can never preserve,

as long as we admire them

for their portals to paradises

matching the one’s of our sleep,

never treating them as thrill rides

we expect to become truth.

 

A little distraction at a monitor screen

in words or pictures we use as magic carpets

gives us a voyage out of labyrinths

where we dwell and dream.

 

It is only a cancer

if we stop holding onto the ticket in our keyboard,

reminding that it is only a land of fairy tales,

never the key to evolving our own existence,

letting it eat away at our sanity.

 

What a blessing the lore of spellbound thoughts

can bring when wrapped in URL wands

providing it is balanced by awareness

there is no perfection

in the actual shelter of our minds.

 

How many have been lost to server cemeteries

who overstayed their visits

until it became an addiction

leaving them trapped in a dimension of disappointment.

unable to keep discerning fact from fiction.